


Three Wits and a Fool

by the_queen_of_thedas



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queen_of_thedas/pseuds/the_queen_of_thedas
Summary: A short fairy tale of three brothers and a maiden who is 'not like other girls' that I had to write for a teacher in 12th grade. Not my best work, but I wrote within the rules or the assignment... sorta.... it was supposed to have a happy ending, it kinda is depending on who you're wins.It's better then my description.





	Three Wits and a Fool

Once upon a time, there lived three brothers who resided in a small cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge. It was well enough away from the kingdom's capital, where each brother was renowned within their own professions; masters of health, war, and tricks.

   The eldest brother was a tall scholar and healer, whose glasses were ever perched on the edge of his nose. He was a caring man, one that took pleasure in aiding others. He always felt that it was his duty to help them all. His goal was never to save the most, but the whole. No wound too great, no sickness too deadly for him to try to heal. The brother wouldn’t be sated until he had saved every soul he could, even at the risk of his own.  

The middle brother was a well-built warrior, whose battle scars ran across his face leaving rivets where flesh should be. He was a brash man, one that took sadistic pleasure and pride in winning. He always felt that it was his duty to fight, to serve his country and bring glory to his name and land. His goal was never just to win the battle, but to triumph in the war. The brother wouldn’t be sated until the ground wept with the blood of his foes, their bodies littered at his armoured feet. He would not stop until every soul submitted to him in battle, even at the risk of his own.

The youngest brother was a court jester, the fool, whose coxcomb hat constantly fell in front of his eyes, no matter the adjustments he made. He was a humble man, one that took pleasure in making the court and others laugh in merriment. He always felt that it was his duty to not only bring joy to the court, but to his brothers’ lives as well. His goal was never to make everyone laugh, but to have them all smile. The fool would be sated with the contentedness of every soul he met, even at the mockery of his own.  

The three brothers lived together in their small cabin by the river, when work was scarce to none at the capital, each enjoying the tranquility the company provided. Despite their individualities and duties, the brothers rejoiced in one another's company. Their brotherhood was strong, and endured far more than any toxin, war, or scandal. They worked the land for their food together, swam in the river to cool themselves after work together, repaired their cabin together, and on occasion, showed off to one another. The warrior brother often won, despite the fool coming in a close second.

On a day when the sun was blistering hot and the river seemed to call to them, the brothers decided to take a break from their showboating and rest in the cool river. As they were swimming and slinking off the sweat from work in the crystal water, a makeshift raft floated down from up river.

On the raft laid a fair maiden with skin as white as a doves feathers, cheek bones as high as the clouds in the sky, and her hair the shade of charcoal. She wore a simple plum coloured dress that fell down to her ankles; the colour so vivid and vibrant, that if you dared squeeze the fabric, wine would drip from the cloth.

The brothers were baffled as to why a beautiful woman such as she was merely drifting down the river, for none of them had seen something akin to this before in any of their work. The eldest brother, taking the lead, swam to the raft and carefully plucked the girl from it. His lanky form almost failed to lift to the woman, for as the other brother joined in the burden, she was dead weight in their arms. Together, though, the brothers lifted her into the small cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge where she would heal and recover.

For three days the Maiden slept. The eldest brother nursed her back to consciousness, rejoicing at the ease with which he could heal her. The middle brother sent word through courier to the capital in search of the family of the girl, for someone of such radiance as the maiden who laid in their small cabin could be nothing short of royalty. As he waited for news to come he hunted for fresh meat to serve her and his brothers, meeting an easy victory in his hunt. Yet the fool could do nothing to help maiden recover. He could search out no one, nor heal her wounds. He simply played his lute as he did for the court, the music flowing through the small secluded cabin, his brothers nodding and humming along to the tune.

On the third day, after the eldest brother had nursed her back to health, the middle brother had sent out word and gathered meats for them all to feast on, and the youngest simply playing his lute, the maiden awakened. She rose from her slumber to the brothers staring at her. Her eyes were a vibrant yellow, that faded to gold the longer you gazed into them. The brothers seemed to do nothing but look into them; to watch as the eyes darted across each of their faces, then to the small cabin they called home. She sat up, her beauty radiating from her as she regained a form of elegance, her back straight and chin held high, and her hair falling down the nape of her back, knots not daring to form on the precious strands.  

Her voice was soft, yet firm, her tone never lifting above that of soft speech as she spoke to the brothers. “I thank thee for saving me from the river. I remember being sent adrift, though not of coming to shore. "

The oldest brother stepped forward towards the maiden, bowing slightly. “It was my duty to aid you, my lady." He kissed her hand pleasantly.

The middle brother stepped forward towards the maiden, bowing significantly. "It was my honor to aid you, my lady." He nodded and kissed both hands.

Finally, the youngest brother stepped forward towards the maiden, bowing respectfully. "It was my pleasure to aid you, my lady." The fool tried to smile a welcome to her, the corners of his lips unable raise themselves above a small smirk. Dipping his head, he just nodded politely.

No word from the capital came for a noble woman's absence, though neither were there any offers of work that the brothers had been asked after either. Weeks went by and the brothers kept the maiden as company. She was delighted to stay. At the end of her time with the brothers, she announced that in thanks for their rescuing, nursing, and hospitality, that she would marry the brother who proved himself the most to her. The maiden claimed that it was a suitable reward for the brother who could show her the best of themselves.

Upon hearing this, the brothers all agreed to vie for the beautiful Maiden’s hand. The eldest brother went first, his eagerness spurring him on. "I shall prove that I am the most skillful healer in all the lands, by curing the plague." So the brother set off for the nearby village that had been cursed with the plague. One, where no work for their cure had been offered, because even the greatest healers throughout the kingdom thought the village doomed.

Along the way to the village, he followed the main long cobblestone road that leads, conveniently, to everywhere. As he walked a wolf began to walk in step beside the healer. It cast a wolfish grin up to the eldest brother, its teeth polished to a bone white, and coat as dark as night. “Where are you going, my friend?” It questioned.

The brother looked down to the beast knowing of wolves trickery and as a dark omen of death. “I am on a quest to prove myself, and to win the hand of a beautiful maiden.”

“It’s always a woman with you folks.” The wolf nodded. “How will thee prove thyself?”

The eldest brother huffed at the wolf. How dare this wolf not know who he was. He was a renowned healer after all. “I will heal the plague.”

The wolf laughed at the eldest brother. “You needn't prove thyself by boasting your prowess in your trade; you search for death in doing so when you are so close. Return now to the woman you love and confess as much.” The healer huffed at the wolf and carried on his way. Not taking heed of the trickster's words.

The brother arrived at the village the following day. Yet the brother worked for days trying to cure the victims, applying bandages and spreading rosemary around the market square to scare off demons. But in turn, he himself caught the sickness, and slowly died.

News reached the little cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge, where the two remaining brothers wept for three days and three nights at the loss of their elder brother. The middle brother still in mourning, but not discouraged by the news of his elder brothers passing, continued in suit for the hand of the maiden. His pride spurring him on. "I shall prove that I am the most skillful warrior in all the lands, by defeating our countries greatest enemies in battle " So the brother set off for the borders of the kingdom to which he will face the armies of opposing nations. A nation that his kingdom has been unable to beat for centuries, due to their tactics and endurance.

Along the way to the border, he followed the main long cobblestone road that leads, conveniently, to everywhere. As he walked a wolf began to walk in step beside the warrior. It cast a wolfish grin up to the middle brother, its teeth polished to a bone white, and coat as dark as night. “Where are you going, my friend?” It questioned.

The brother looked down to the beast knowing of wolves trickery and as a dark omen of death. “I am on a quest to prove myself, and to win the hand of a beautiful maiden.”

“It’s always a woman with you folks.” The wolf nodded. “How will thee prove thyself?”

The middle brother huffed at the wolf. How dare this wolf not know who he was. He was a renowned warrior after all. “I will defeat our countries greatest enemies in battle.”

The wolf laughed at the middle brother. “You needn't prove thyself by boasting your prowess in your trade; you search for death in doing so when you are so close. Return now to the woman you love and confess as much.” The warrior huffed at the wolf and carried on his way. Not taking heed of the trickster's words.

The brother arrived at the border the following day, his sword ready. Yet the brother rallies the troops that also happened to be there for some plot reason. Their banners raised to defeat their enemies, yet as the trumpet sounded and the ranks charged the others. The brother himself was skewered by the armies advancing pikers and died promptly.

News reached the little cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge, where the remaining brother wept for three days and three nights at the loss of his brothers. He cried out for his eldest brother to mend his broken heart, the brother never came. He called out for his middle brother to regale him with stories of war and battle to cheer him up, the brother never came. The fool tried to sing his best songs, tell himself his best jokes, and speak his most silly rhymes in order to distract himself from his melancholy. But nothing made him smile: for no smile can grace your lips when you truly meet or mourn death.

The fool, if only in the memory of his brother's loss, continued in suit for the hand of the maiden in their name. "I shall prove that I am the most skillful jester in all the lands, not only for the honour of your hand, but for my brothers. I do not know how I shall do it, how I will prove my skill. But I will try." So the brother set off for the borders of the kingdom to which he will try to prove his skill. A skill that provides something that every living creature needs, a smile and good laugh. Along the way to somehow prove his skill, he followed the main long cobblestone road that leads, conveniently, to everywhere. As he walked a wolf began to walk in step beside the fool.

It cast a wolfish grin up to the youngest brother, its teeth polished to a bone white, and coat as dark as night. “Where are you going, my friend?” It questioned.

The brother looked down to the beast knowing of wolves trickery and as a dark omen of death. “I am on a quest to prove my skill, honour my brother's memory, and to win the hand of a beautiful maiden.”

“It’s always a woman with you folks. But a brother's a new one.” The wolf nodded. “How will thee prove thyself?”

The youngest brother shrugged to the wolf. He knew the animal was only questioning him, asking him the question he wondered himself. He was a renowned jester, yet how could he prove such a meager skill after all? “I do not know. But I have to. For my brothers’ sake at the least”

The wolf nodded at the youngest brother. “Wiser words than they imply. You needn't prove thyself by boasting your prowess in your trade; you search for death in doing so when you are so close. Return now to the woman you love and confess as much.” The jester thanked the wolf and spun on his heels towards the small cabin. Taking heed of the trickster's words.

The fool returned to the small cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge, where he opened the door to see the maiden sitting there waiting for him impatiently. She was surprised at first to see him return, if so suddenly. But the shock wore off as she begged for him to prove himself. She brought him into and embrace and looked at him, she asked him to prove himself, so that she could marry him. The fool was reluctant, the wolf’s words fresh in his mind, as he broke her embrace.  

“No.” He stated firmly.

And the maiden smiled.

At that instant, the maiden transformed into a thin and skeletal like figure with a black targeted cloak scraped over her once beautiful form. She was death. "I wanted you and your brothers to prove yourselves to me.” Her voice now cracked and haggled as she spoke. “So I'd know that your soul would be pure enough for me to marry. I even gave them the warning of my pet yet none knew more than the fool before me." She gave slight sigh in relief. “You win.” With that, she faded into the shadows of the small cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge. The howl of a wolf echoing in the distance.

Years later, when the youngest brother had grown old, weary, and grey. The maiden came to his side once again. She looked the same as she did when he and his brothers had saved from the river. Her skin ghostly white and her hair the colour of a mourners cloak. She wore a morrow coloured dress that framed her well. He simply nodded once again to her and said calmly “It's time.”. Death nodded, and with that, she took his hand and led him to the door of the small cabin secluded away behind a large thicket at the river's edge.

On the other side of the door they entered to a chapel, light poured in from all sides making the place seem to glow with unnatural means. Near the front sat an erected altar, and to the right of that were pews. Pews filled with the forms of two men.

The once-maiden and the fool then, ‘lived’ happily ever after.

 

 

The End


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